


In A Small Town Called Destiny

by sleepygrimm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Good Pansy Parkinson, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepygrimm/pseuds/sleepygrimm
Summary: They say that opposites attract. Can two souls who found their way back home, can also find true love?
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10
Collections: Paneville





	In A Small Town Called Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Paneville_November 2020
> 
> Prompt: Sage Green 
> 
> Huge thank you to Gcgraywriter for hosting this Amazing Paneville fest. You made a paneville shipper's dream come true.  
> my apologies for the late entry. Real-life happened. It took a lot of caffeine to get my mojo back. Lol. This is going to be a multi-chapter that will comply with the prompts.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoy it. comments are always welcome.

“Meow”

Pansy Parkinson frowned at the orange cat that was perched next to her on the purple sofa. “What do you want now? I put your dumb expensive feast out, your special little ball and your litter box are by the door.”

“Meow”

Pansy had no idea what his problem was and didn’t felt particularly tolerant. She had agreed to cat sit for her best friend, Hermione. Who had gone for the weekend with Harry to see his parents. She originally planned to do the job at Hermione’s house, but instead, she packed up the spoiled cat and brought him to her cabin. Only now, he wouldn’t leave her alone.

“What is it? you silly cat.”

“Meow”

Pansy rolled her eyes at him and pushed to her feet, and said “I’m going to check the mail. Eat your expensive food while I’m gone.” She didn’t bother to put on shoes because it was nice out for early May—the sun was bright; the warmth of the concrete driveway felt good beneath her feet. The cabin’s inside door was already open so she pushed through the screen door – only to saw a flash of orange fur darted past her feet! _Oh, God._

“Crookshanks! you get back here right now!” she yelled. The cat continued to ignore her and scampered around the corner of the log house, out of sight.

“Crookshanks!” she shouted. The screen door slammed shut and she ran barefoot over the cool grass instead of the warm concrete and hoped she would not step on anything unpleasant as she bounded around her cabin and behind it. The furball was nowhere in sight. If she lost Hermione’s cat… well, it was unthinkable. She would frequently tease her best friend for her intense attachment and she could hardly imagine Hermione’s life without her beloved pet. Pansy’s chest went hollow.

 _Don’t panic. You’ll find him. You have to_. “Here, Kitty!” she called in her high-pitched voice. “Here, kitty kitty.” Pansy scanned the area behind her cabin. Beyond the backyard, the land sloped upward toward a small white ranch house with a large garage to one side. Well, at least her new neighbor wasn’t out and about. She hadn’t seen him or her—yet. All she knew was that the new occupant seemed to have very loud friends and this was no time for awkward introductions. Given that she moved out here in the woods and sought its peace and quiet atmosphere. With the sage green palette as her backdrop.

Pansy padded onward through the soft spring grass and heard no annoying meows and saw no signs of cat life. She then thought about where she lived. There were so many trees here. Her cabin and the neighbor’s house were the only two homes for half a mile in either direction. Both were built on the hilliest stretch of Glencoe. The shadowy, narrow stretch of pavement twisted past on one side of the houses, and Godric's Hollow ran along with the other. So many places for a cat to hide, to get lost or hurt. _How on earth would she be able to find him here?_

“Here, Kitty, kitty!” Her heart was in her throat by the time she reached the side of her yard that led towards the stream, and the small descent of Glencoe Falls in the distance. She peered off into the woods, it was fairly dark even on a late afternoon. “Please, Crookshanks.”

Nothing moved in the forest, but she could hear the slush of the falls from where she stood. She began to walk upward, into the yard above, and stared into the trees to her right. 

“Crookshanks, please if you can hear me, I’m sorry I haven’t been very nice. Just come out and let’s go home. I’ll feed you with a spoon if that’s what it takes, I’ll scratch your chin, play yarn and all the other stuff Hermione told me to do that I haven’t been doing.”

Beneath the shade of trees, and its cold breeze she began to chill. She hugged herself. She wore only a tank top with her faded denim jeans, her bare feet had officially become cold. When suddenly, she heard a masculine throat-clearing sound behind her, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped around to face the noise, she found… _Oh, Lord_. This was surely not his neighbor. At the intimidating sight of him, she almost jumped again but forced herself to stand on the ground this time.

He stood at least six foot three, with slightly long brown hair that fell to his broad shoulders. His black T-shirt molded to his body. and his muscular arms sported tattoos. she sucked in her breath as her skin prickled. 

“You lose somebody?” He asked. his voice deep and his expression suspected that she might be a little crazy. Probably, since she was in the woods and having a conversation with someone who wasn't even there... About playing and cuddling nonetheless. 

“My friend’s cat,” Pansy said. “I’m cat-sitting and it ran away.” Something about this guy’s deep brown eyes on her was unnerving. He possessed… shockingly pretty eyes, framed by thick dark lashes. Their warmth contradicted everything else about him, all of which was definitely hard, rough, and even a little scary. “His name’s Crookshanks,” she added. 

“Weird name for a cat.” He said. voice devoid of any emotion. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. She considered saying more but decided against it. “Have you seen him?”

“Nope. I just came outside.” he shook his head. 

Pansy realized that he seemed familiar beneath all that look. _Was it his voice? Those eyes?_ _Something was subtle in his tough-guy stance?_ Then it occurred to her that he looked like… Longbottom. The family had roots in the town of Destiny here in Glencoe. It went back half a century. Her family was also one of the sacred twenty-eight. A century-old line of families on the Scottish Highlands. 

And then it hit her. _Could this possibly be…? Was this… Neville Longbottom, who had left town years ago and never been heard of again?_

 _No, surely not._ Because if Neville was back in town, she would know. Draco was engaged to her best friend Hermione Granger, one of Neville’s closest friends. 

_Unless… could Neville have come back without telling anyone?_ He had moved in a couple of weeks ago, after all. And the Glencoe Highlands area was pretty isolated, a good place to keep to oneself—which is exactly why she had chosen it. 

_It made no sense if Neville had come to Destiny, why wouldn’t he contact his grandma Augusta or his friends? and she saw Draco and Hermione often enough that nothing monumental ever occurred._

“Uh, you okay?” he asked and narrowed his eyes. 

_Oh Crap! Not Really. I’ve lost Hermione’s cat, and I just kept standing and staring at you while my heart beats too fast._

“No,” she answered honestly—despite that his question sounded more like _You seem odd_ than _I’m more concerned by you._ “If I don’t find that damn cat, I’m dead.” 

Neville slightly tilt his head and spoke: “Must be an important cat.” 

“It is. Very.” Then she pointed vaguely towards her cabin thirty yards down the hill. “I’m your neighbor by the way.” 

She’d started to say her name, yet somehow hadn’t felt completely comfortable to share it with him. Although she hoped maybe he would introduce himself anyway—instead he just said, “How did the cat get out?” 

“When I opened the door, he ran past me.” 

Pansy detected a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Doesn’t sound like you’re a very good cat sitter.” 

“Obviously, I lost my training manual.” she rolled her eyes and stood with her hands on her hips. 

“Well, he couldn’t have gotten far.” he shrugged. 

Pansy disagreed with the assessment, but the notion propelled her to consider ways she might lure Crookshanks back if he was still nearby. She won't allow herself to be distracted by the tattoos on his arms.

“Do you have any yarn?” she asked.

Her tall and broad-shouldered neighbor blinked and looked at her like she was nuts again. “Any what?” 

"Yarn.” she swallowed nervously the dumb lump in her throat. “Crookshanks likes to play with yarn. Red’s his favorite.” _shut up, shut up, shut up._

“Afraid I haven’t unpacked my knitting basket yet,” he grinned. “But hang on a minute—I’ve got an idea.” 

Neville walked away towards his house, she realized at the back of his T-shirt in red lettering, were words **Longbottom’s Custom Bike Painting.**

_Holy Crap! She had been right. This was Neville!_ His Grandma hadn’t heard from him in so long. The town feared he was dead after what happened with his parents. At even some point that he joined a biker gang. She remembered him years ago. 

He said nothing as he rejoined her in the yard. “Oh, Milk,” she exclaimed. “Brilliant!” _Stop with the comments already!_

Neville lowered the dish to the grass halfway between Pansy and the woods. Then stepped back beside her. And that’s when she realized what Crookshanks wanted when he’d been meowing at her. Hermione gave him a saucer of milk every night along with dinner—and she had forgotten. _Stubborn, spoiled cat._

“Is that him?” Neville asked.

Pansy’s heart rose to her throat when she followed his finger that pointed toward the edge of the yard, where the forest met the lawn—Crookshanks crouched there in the taller grass, peered at the milk as if it were his prey. 

“Uh, huh,” she whispered.

Both of them stayed quiet as Crookshanks slowly, silently inched toward the milk. his movements implied he was being very sneaky about the whole thing. Once it started to lap on the milk, Pansy gingerly moved beside him. it didn’t flinch when she reached to stroke its fur, too caught up in the milk. 

“Thank God,” she sighed. She gave the cat an affectionate squeeze. She felt like she could breathe, But then she remembered who had helped her find it. Neville Longbottom had left town at eighteen, which was –sixteen years ago. But this had to be him. The whole motorcycle thing fit. As did the name on the back of his shirt. _Why was he back?_

When Crookshanks reached the bottom of the bowl, Pansy anchored one arm snugly around him and pushed to her feet.

“Thanks,” she said. She can’t help but peer back into that captivating eyes. The once lanky boy had grown into a beautiful man with tattoos. 

“No problem,” he said. 

“You saved my life,” she added.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He said. Unemotional and detached. His voice made Pansy remembered the whole Biker rumor. Her muscles stayed tensed, she also felt a response in other places, too. Particularly, between her thighs. _What was that about? Or wait—maybe it was all nerves_ , her whole body got into the act because he intimidated her _. A bit._ She couldn’t tell. 

She dropped her gaze and bit her lip, her heart pounded as she forced her eyes back to his one last time. 

“Well, I better get him into the house before he tries to make another break for it.” she nervously said. 

Neville didn’t respond. So, with Crookshanks in hand, she turned to leave. 

That’s when he said, “See you later…hot stuff.” 

Pansy halted at his last words. _What had he just called her?_ She looked over her shoulder and raised her gaze back to his—to find another tiny hint of amusement as he said. “Your shirt.” 

She glanced down and wanted to die. She completely forgot she wore a snug white tank top with the words _Hot Stuff_ written in script across it. It was half of the pajama set Hermione had given for her birthday; But the worst part was – she didn’t wear a bra, a fact that was scandalously apparent. She even caught a hint of color through the thin cotton. Intense heat climbed her cheeks. 

“Sure, see ya,” she smirked and then high tailed it briskly back down the hill through the cool carpet of the grass.

With clenched teeth, she glared down at the cat in her arms. “You are in so much trouble, mister.” 


End file.
